


The Pearl of Great Price

by fineinthemorning



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akeshu/Shuake Secret Santa Exchange, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineinthemorning/pseuds/fineinthemorning
Summary: What started out as an errand for a friend ends up as a pancake date with a frenemy. On this cold winter night in October, Akira reaches for something he can't quite grasp.





	The Pearl of Great Price

**Author's Note:**

> Hold up! This is a gift for Hanaxryu~! They asked for a pancake date, so I tried very hard to make it happen!  
> Also, this fic is technically Chapter 15 of [Nothing Else Will Do ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11398344)and takes place on October 28th after the team meets up and makes plans for the 29th.  
> HOWEVER, this can stand alone and still be understood and enjoyed. It references the other fic very little and mostly sticks to canon in terms of prior plot.

After the others left once they’d decided to infiltrate Sae’s palace the next day, Akira hadn’t expected Akechi to walk back in not five minutes later. Yet, just as Morgana had scampered up the stairs and Akira had turned to join him, the bell to signal the coming and going of Leblanc's customers told Akira that he was not alone. 

Akechi walked towards him with the smile that made Akira disappointed in a way he couldn’t name and just as equally frustrated. Nearly any time they were all together, Akechi was wearing that smile. It made any thought in defense of Akechi Goro die in his head before it ever even reached his mouth. How could he convince the others anything favorable of Akechi when his supposed ‘ _ charming _ ’ side only pissed everyone off and the moments that appeared genuine with Goro were rare even for him?

“I did actually want some coffee if you would be so kind as to oblige,” he requested with his gloved hands together, one covering the other.

How self-important could he be? Leblanc was closed and Akira wasn’t working.

Akechi’s smile cracked, faltering only a moment before he corrected it and turned.

Akira inhaled deeply. He must have let his thoughts show on his face. That wouldn’t help the situation in the slightest. They would actually be working together and in life and death situations at that. He needed to clear the air between them, well, as best he could with Akechi’s blackmail and his own feelings on the matter.

“About that . . .” Akira debated his options. He had planned to meet with Futaba, but hopefully, she could wait until later if he asked. Akechi turned back around, his smile back in place as he waited for Akira to go on.  “Actually, I’m about to head out to find a gift for a friend, but I was going to ask. Could you join me?”

Akechi blinked, genuinely surprised, “Join you?”

Akira pulled out his phone to check the time and slipped it back in his pocket as he spoke, avoiding Akechi’s inquiring eyes, “Yeah, you are in the loop with what’s popular and what-not, right?”

“I suppose,” Akechi replied blankly.

“Any suggestions on where to go?” Akira asked, moving from the booth he was leaning against to step in front of Akechi.

“Aside from Shinjuku and Shibuya?” Akechi appeared to have recovered from the invitation as he took his detective pose and reviewed silently his knowledge of the Tokyo area.

Akira nodded even though the detective didn't have his eyes on him.

Finally, the other responded, straightening once more, “Have you tried Roppongi? Roppongi Hills, specifically?”

“I’ve never been to the mall there, no,” Akira admitted with a small shrug. There were still a lot of places he hadn't been yet, but the whole thieving business came first, anyway. He’d at least recognized Roppongi as the place they’d traveled to where Okumura Food Headquarters were located. Before then, he’d heard of it before, though. Business. Foreigners. Shopping. It was a frequent location in the dramas his mother watched and it had come up a few times in the news. Maybe he'd read about architecture at some point?

“It’s popular and quite tasteful, but a bit upscale.”

“Could you take me?” he tried, wondering how many ways he'd have to reword the invitation before Akechi got it through his thick skull.

“I--”

Akira offered him a way out immediately when he processed the detective's expression, “Or did you have plans?”

“No, I-” he appeared to not take invitations well, which was a bit of a surprise. The first time they'd met, he'd practically invited himself to whatever Akira had been planning at the time with his friends. Akira tried to recall if he’d ever actually invited Akechi to anything directly. He’d mentioned movies and been shot down which was a shame because he'd invited him to come upstairs, so it wasn’t as if it was some major commitment. It wasn't as if Akechi Goro was unfamiliar with Leblanc. He could also remember something about a Hawaiian restaurant . . . but no, he’d never attempted anything quite like this before. Akira himself almost never invited others out. People were always texting him, asking him to meet-up with them, inviting him to new locations, but he’d never reached out quite like this. Even if he invited Kawakami over rather often, that wasn’t nearly the same thing. Today he needed an errand he could technically do alone, and yet, he'd invited Akechi to come and he'd asked for Akechi's advice. Of all of the bonds that Akira had forged here in Tokyo, Akechi's was by far the most difficult to strengthen.

Akechi recovered the second he appeared to have processed that he'd, this time, run out of excuses, “As I said before, I was ready to begin Sae’s investigation earlier, so no, I have no plans.”

It hadn’t been the answer that Akira was hoping for because technically, he'd admitted that he was free, but not that he would take Akira to Roppongi. Instead of bothering to point that out, Akira simply waited, his expression blank.

“Yes, I’ll take you,” Akechi finally surrendered.

“Much appreciated,” Akira smiled and grabbed his bag, free of Morgana.

Akechi turned to leave but then turned back around, his mouth open to say something, but when he spotted the messenger bag, it closed again quite abruptly. Their eyes met, he put on his smile, and he asked, “Are you bringing your cat? Morgana-san, was it?”

Akira shook his head, “Nah, he’ll be with Futaba. We can go.”

“Right,” Akechi led them away and Akira locked the door as he left knowing full well that Morgana could escape out the window upstairs should he need to.

On the way to the station, Akira’s phone went off.

 

**Futaba:** GAME OVER. BAD END.

**Akira:** Morgana told you? I’ll see you when I get back. I’m going to get Ann a birthday present.

**Futaba:** You’re going on a date. 

**Akira:** Am I?

**Futaba:** Why are you pursuing that route?

**Akira:** I like a challenge. (•̀o•́)ง

**Futaba:** Apology cake OR ELSE!! ‾͟͟͞(((ꎤˋ⁻̫ˊ)—̳͟͞͞o

**Akira:** I’ll see what I can do. ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭*

**Futaba:** Such sacrilege.

**Akira:** But I’m the picture of innocence.

**Futaba:** ┻━┻ ︵ ¯\ (ツ)/¯ ︵ ┻━┻

**Akira:** ┬──┬◡ﾉ ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)◡┬──┬

**Futaba:** THE WINGS ARE A LIE

**Futaba:** （╯°□°）╯︵( .o.)

**Akira:** You would make an angel cry?

**Akira:**  ଘ( ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )ଓ

**Akira:** Now who’s going to get the bad end?

**Futaba:** ಠ-ಠ

**Futaba:** Just remember the cake.

 

Akechi led him effortlessly through the station once they arrived, and, after getting on a hopelessly long escalator that seemed to take them up into the night sky, he turned to Akira to speak to him for the first time since Leblanc, “We’re at Roppongi Hills. Inside is a mall, several restaurants, and an art gallery. There is an observation deck as well, of course.”

_ Of course. _ Akira tried not to roll his eyes. Akechi was using that pretentious attitude again. Akira only nodded as the escalator ended and he followed Akechi off. There were windows all around them and the sun had already set at half past five. The trains had been crowded enough that on their half-hour train commute there, they hadn’t been able to speak. With the opportunity to do so now, however, Akira was left not knowing what to say. He dismissed the uneasiness quickly and let Akechi lead him outside where a large spider sculpture several meters high was towering on their left, and, in front of them, a building Akira had to lean his head all the way back to see glowed and lit the scenery around them.

Tokyo never ceased being interesting, unlike his hometown. The city was lights and sounds and life in sprawling streets that traveled in all directions and dimensions. You could travel up just as far as you could travel forward and nothing was out of reach. Sure, it was constantly overwhelming, but it never failed to be exciting. Maybe the shadows were as deep as the lights were bright, but no matter where he had gone in his few months there, he'd always found a new story, a new path, and a new person that colored the personality of the city something new. He didn’t even really miss his hometown-- not the look of it, the people, nothing. He had thought that he would. That’s what people said right? You don’t see the value in something until it’s gone? He’d been without the cicadas and the mold and the familiar faces more than half a year, and the thought of going back, even if just temporarily, put a knot in his stomach. There was nothing for him there with the world stretched flat and thin and judgemental. He didn't exactly have any power over his own fate in terms of where he lived or who he stayed with, but once he was free to choose, he'd find a way to remain in Tokyo with the people he’d come to care about.

“Who, may I ask, is the gift for?”

“Hm?” Akira could feel the detective's eyes on him; it was almost never a warm feeling but instead unsettling, like knowing a bug was crawling on your skin but it was too small to catch or you were too lazy or distracted to care. Akira currently fell in the latter category with his complete attention on the blue and white lights in front of him. Tokyo wasn’t something to be ignored. He had to take it in with each breath and notice something new every time he exhaled.

“The gift.”

“Right." Akira finally turned to look at Akechi, his face expressionless, "I was thinking of maybe a hair accessory or a phone case.” In all honesty, he figured he would just know it when he saw it. As Ann had appeared beside him on that gray day with her profile demanding his attention, green eyes open and thoughtful, he was sure something that reminded him of her would just present itself in much the same way. Still, he wanted it to be a nice gift and not something she’d likely just pick up herself which is why he appreciated that Akechi had taken him so far from Ann’s usual territory. He doubted she traveled to this area unless it was for a shoot; she’d never actually mentioned it before, so that was promising.

“It’s for a woman?” Akechi asked, his ' _ pleasant _ ' mask in place.

Akira nodded, a bit disappointed that Akechi was acting as he typically did outside of Leblanc. He wanted to point it out but wasn’t even sure how he’d bring it up without being incredibly tactless. 

“Well, there are a lot of op--”

“Akechi-kun?!" a voice practically squealed from somewhere over by the large, iron spider, "Eh, you are Akechi-kun, right?” A pair of high school students closed the distance between themselves and Goro in seconds.

The TV celebrity had been spotted. Akira figured this would happen, so it was better to get it out of the way now.

“Oh, yes, hello,” Akechi smiled as perfect as plastic. Akira tried to inch away.

“So cool! It really is him!”

“Oh my god, it’s him!” the two girls had gushed at the same time, taking each of his hands.

“Can we take a photo with you?” one asked.

“Of course,” Akechi mimicked their enthusiasm as practiced as it was.

“Here, would you take this?” the other girl handed Akira her phone after tapping at the screen to make the camera come up.

“Oh, sure,” he replied mechanically, taking his hands out of his pockets as the girls forcibly moved Akechi into position.

“Smile!” one of them yelled.

Akira took two photos, the harsh flash lighting the spider behind them as well, and handed the phone back to its owner.

The two girls huddled together to look at the phone, not turning once back to Akechi to thank him or Akira, “Ahh! Oh my god, we got a photo with him!” They began to walk away, “Quick, post it! Omg, Sayaka-chan will be so jealous!”

“It was really him!” the other girl squealed as they disappeared around the corner.

“Sorry about that,” Akechi said, distant, his smile visible from the light of the building, but not quite as brilliant and forced as before.

“You seemed to enjoy it,” Akira lied. He didn’t understand why anyone would pretend to be happy to be treated like that. They clearly had just wanted a photo to score social media points with friends; they’d had no actual interest in Akechi as a person.

“Oh, you think so?” Akechi smiled something new, his arms crossing in front of him.

Just as Akira was about to respond, they heard another not-so-subtle onlooker.

“Why do you think they asked for his photo?” a woman tugged on her, presumably, boyfriend’s arm.

“I don’t know. Do you recognize him?” he asked, not ecstatic about some potential celebrity.

“He looks vaguely familiar,” she replied, studying from afar as if Akechi couldn’t hear her.

“Is that the high school detective?” the boyfriend asked. “Akechi, right?” 

“Hmm, Akechi-san?” someone behind them called.

“Yeah, I think it’s him!” the girlfriend’s recognition clicked and she was pulling her boyfriend suddenly in their direction.

Akechi looked to Akira, “Sorry, I’ll--” 

“I’ll be inside,” Akira waved it off, attempting to remain as neutral as possible, concealing his disappointment altogether by walking on ahead of him towards the door to the building.

“Be there shortly,” Akechi called after him, honey sweet and grimace-inducing. “Good afternoon!” Akira heard him enchant the few people who had begun to surround him.

“Akechi-san, you look just as handsome in real life!”

Akira disappeared into the building before he could hear more. It was better to be alone than to watch whatever  _ that _ was. It was such a shallow love, an infatuation that didn’t go anywhere beyond looks and perhaps intellect. To those girls earlier, Akechi was nothing but another ‘ _ Like _ ’ on their photo or a new potential ‘ _ Follower _ ’. And yet, Akechi had chosen to stay behind and satisfy his so-called fans instead of joining him. He wasn’t jealous, exactly--just confused. What did Akechi really get out of that relationship? Attention? Compliments? Recognition? Affection?

As Akira wandered the mall without direction, he pondered the last possibility. He could remember what Akechi had said before about his mother. He’d never mentioned his father. He wasn’t ignorant to how children like that grew up even if it wasn’t covered at all in the news or media and people didn’t talk about it. Like so many other broken systems and unfortunate truths that brought shame to Japanese society, things like that were essentially, in a word,  _ ignored _ .

If he thought about Akechi in that regard, then his choice to feed the appetites of his fans wasn’t so unreasonable. But, if he saw it that way, it also made him wonder what role affection played in any of Akechi’s relationships. Akira shook his head, realizing suddenly that he’d passed several accessory shops and not actually been inside any of them. He was still attempting to make any headway with Akechi in regards to trust. He’d thought they’d made progress, but with Akechi’s recent blackmail, he wondered if Akechi had been acting purely in his own interest, as part a script, or as just another charade. No, Akira couldn’t afford to think about him that way.  

Something caught his eye quite suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. Black and white stripes. Lacquered wood. A gift.  

 

* * *

 

More than an hour later, they met outside by the pond on the first floor. A string of gold beads that sprouted from the water formed a heart shape design depending on the angle it was being viewed from. The many couples he’d seen in the last hour made more sense. There were far fewer people out now, however, likely due to the weather and because it was a weeknight. Akechi had seen him first, and had appeared in front of him with an apologetic expression, “Forgive me, Kurusu-kun, I--”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Akira cut him off. He didn’t normally interrupt others, but he didn’t want to listen to the other apologize for something he probably wasn’t sorry for. As always, he preferred honesty from Akechi, despite its rarity. 

The brunette noticed the bag in his hand, and he asked with a curve of his lips, “Did you find something already?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s already getting late; should we get dinner?” Akira had seen a place on his way downstairs. He knew Akechi would probably refuse, but he tried anyway. Like always, he was taking a chance with him, but that never bothered Akira. He wouldn’t openly admit it, but the risk made the relationship all the more interesting. Of course, he would prefer to understand Akechi better, but the risk he took in his attempts only encouraged him to try harder, and, of course, it made the reward even sweeter. Seeing that smile, hearing that tone, seeing that transparency in Akechi, even if for a second, made the rejected invitations, the disappointments, the never-ending patience, worth it.

“Oh, sure,” 

Akira didn’t hide his smile, happy to finally be with Akechi without anyone else around to interrupt them, “There’s a place upstairs.”

Akechi stepped aside and gestured for Akira to continue, “Lead the way.”

Akira lead them to a place called Moroko Bar where the glass walls revealed a nearly empty cafe with green plants along the walls, tropical flowers in vases at the tables, chairs decorated in off-white fabric and pillows, and dim lighting that promised them a relaxed atmosphere. When he moved to open the door, Akechi put his hand on his shoulder. “A bar?”

“Pancakes?” Akira pointed to the menu on display beside the door.

For a moment, Akechi seemed taken aback, his expression going from surprise to confusion, to skepticism, and then finally- blank.

Akira let go of the door handle and studied Akechi quietly behind the black frames of his glasses, “You mentioned liking them once.”

“Oh, did I?” Akechi’s surprise was rehearsed.

Akira only nodded in response.

“Thank you so much for remembering. If you don’t want to eat them, however, we can certainly go somewhere else. I know that they’re not exactly savory, and most people would prefer their dinner not be so sweet.”

“I do.” Akira put his hand on the door once more, “Want to eat here, I mean.” He realized Akechi must not have actually looked at the menu.

“Well then, let’s eat, shall we?”

After being led to their table, one by a window that looked out at the pond one floor down, Akechi gasped as he read through the menu. Akira waited as he eyed the menu himself, stealing glances at Akechi as the light from the electric candle at their table flickered across Akechi’s face.

“These are pancakes? How interesting.” 

“So, you’ve never had them before?” Akira couldn’t help but feel pleased. He wasn’t sure why something so simple made him feel so relieved, but he wasn’t one to read too much into his own feelings anyway. He didn’t have time for it when there were so many other people depending on him.

“A savory pancake?” Akechi put the menu down and laced his fingers together on top of it, “No. I mean, not unless okonomiyaki counts.”

Akira laughed suddenly, mirthful and gentle. Akechi had sounded so thoughtful, so serious in his speculation. 

“What?” Akechi watched him, his face contorting into dismay while a light pink appeared on his cheeks in the amber light.

The subtle blush, however difficult to see, made Akira smile. Akechi himself wasn’t smiling, but his expression was genuine. Even if the emotion he was likely feeling was a negative one, Akira felt a shiver of excitement to see something honest. He wouldn’t read into  _ that _ emotion, either. 

“No, okonomiyaki doesn’t count,” Akira finally replied.

“Then no, I haven’t had something like this before.” Akechi moved his hands and his attention fell back to the menu, “They offer a crispy pancake? What is that?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Always surprising me, Kurusu.”

After they ordered, Akechi turned his eyes outside and Akira followed his gaze. The heart that the pearls in the pond formed couldn’t be seen from where they were seated. Instead, they just looked like they were floating above the water in an orange glow.

Hoping to get Akechi to talk, Akira spoke first, “I’ve never seen golden pearls before.”

“They’re real, albeit, very rare,” Akechi replied.

“Is there anything you’re not knowledgeable of, detective?”

“Foreign films and Japanese composers? Shogi?” After a beat he added, “Savory, crispy pancakes?”

“Ah, that’s right,” Akira recalled their prior conversations. He leaned over the table slightly, shifted in his chair, and leaned back. “I could teach you,” he said finally.

Akechi rolled his eyes instead of responding. 

Akira froze.

_ ‘Vindictive looks good on you.’ _

He’d said that before--the last time Akechi had rolled his eyes. This time, he didn’t look nearly as cruel, but there was a trick the light was playing on his face. Akechi appeared cold, contemptuous, even. Like that same night, an impulse surfaced inside him, pressing against the boundaries of execution. He could see the image in front of his eyes now playing out with his mind like a 3-D film. He would stand up, reach across the table, grab Akechi by the collar, and press his lips to his to swallow that smug expression down like ambrosia. Maybe the vase would fall over, water spilling between them when Akechi leaned up and pressed back into Akira, his hands reaching up into his hair as he returned the kiss. Akira squinted his eyes shut. This was the third time now that he wanted to kiss Akechi Goro. Kiss him. Touch him. Undress him in every meaning of the word. Akira turned suddenly and looked back out the window to the sculpture of floating pearls below. These thoughts were becoming more difficult to ignore now. Eventually, he’d have to admit them to himself. For now, he was labeling his interest as merely a desire to gain the other’s trust. He certainly wouldn’t accomplish that by forcing him into a kiss in public.

A silence had fallen between them, and Akira realized how closely he was being studied when Akechi spoke, “The sculpture is Kin no Kokoro. There’s an expression, to have a heart of gold, that it’s referring to. To be sincere, kind, and generous without selfish motivation . . . That is what it means to have a heart of gold.” Akechi sighed. 

Akira didn’t turn to see if Akechi was looking at him or the pond below. “Have you met someone like that before?” he asked the glass in front of him.

“No,” Akechi answered easily as if he’d been expecting the question.

Akira cracked a smile at his automatic response, “You’re not even going to consider the possibility?” He finally looked over at him with his eyes only. He saw that Akechi wasn’t even looking at him but was instead looking out at the city lights.

“I don’t think humans have golden hearts.”

“Right, we’ve talked about this before,” Akira recalled something about pure intentions.

“Yes, we have,” Akechi confirmed.

Silence fell between them once more, and Akira offered another interpretation, “What about the Pearl of Great Price?”

“Hmm?”

He elaborated, “One thing to value above all else? That’s what I thought when I saw the sculpture.” He’d connected the shape of the sculpture with the pearl of great price--what love itself was worth.

“I’m not familiar with the idea,” Akechi admitted.

“We read something about it in literature class when discussing meter. It’s something about a merchant who trades all of his belongings for a single pearl. The pearl is faith, I think? Entry to Heaven? Something like that.” He finally turned back to face Akechi, shifting in the chair to get comfortable again, setting the pillow in his lap and absently wishing it was Morgana until he remembered that Morgana didn’t appreciate being pet by him in the least.

“Something worth trading everything for?” Akechi followed suit, and they faced each other.

When the silence fell upon them this time, Akira waited for Akechi to finish his line of thought. He hoped that his silence would encourage the other to go on. He wanted to ask Akechi what would be worth  _ everything  _ to him, but he wouldn’t dare ask it.

“Maybe, the ability to turn back time?” Akechi finally said, his eyes looking down at the single white amaryllis at their table.

He hadn't expected that. The regret couldn’t be seen in Akechi’s expression, but it didn’t need to be because the answer in itself was obvious proof. Akechi regretted something, or perhaps several somethings, and there was no changing them now. Akira processed what it could mean slowly because there were still, even now, too many unknowns in regards to Akechi, so there were too many things that could be the ‘ _ regret _ ’ of which he was indirectly claiming. 

After realizing the weight of his words as it settled around them, Akechi fumbled with his next, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. What I mean is, I’d like to look back on precious memories.”

That didn’t sit well. Sure enough, Akechi was smiling fake and flawless in front of him. Why was Akechi lying now? Akira hadn’t even said anything, but Akechi had gone into hiding as soon as he had realized that he’d opened up . . . even though it was about something so incredibly _ vague _ . If what Akechi was saying were true, he would have said something like ‘ _ the ability to travel through time _ ’, but no, Akechi wanted to change his past and everything that followed thereafter.

Inside, Akira felt his heart constrict as if a hand had grasped it to squeeze it free of blood. He’d asked for this; he’d sought this game yet again, and just as it always did, he’d ended up losing. Akechi would only ever give him a glimpse, only a taste; even still, Akira couldn’t stop himself from wanting everything and more--anything Akechi would give him even if it were scraps and pieces and unfinished sentences.

In an attempt to recover, he changed the topic of conversation altogether, “How’s the couponing going?”

That got a reaction out of Akechi, his eyes flying to attention moving wide then narrow in seconds, “What? That was you?” He didn’t appear to be happy at this revelation. Akira remained quiet as the reality settled over him; Akechi didn’t care for his joke. Well, he’d been angry; it would be pointless to waste time on regret. He still felt Akechi kind of deserved it anyway.

“I never suspected you would be so petty,” he went on, voice sharp with the intent to burn.

Akira knew it was wrong, but the tone in Akechi’s voice made his heart stir, his skin crawl, his lips part, “Petty?” he popped the fingers on his hands absently, “You’d known about the Thieves all this time, and you waited until you could blackmail us to come forward with the truth?” The smile he wore now wasn’t his own; it belonged instead to that of a thief who had most successfully sprung a trap. He relaxed back in his chair, his eyes challenging his opponent as his lips curled at the edges.

“I suspect I’m seeing a new side of you, Kurusu-kun,” Akechi was, surprisingly, smiling too, and while it held no warmth, the tone he used illuminated that it wasn’t meant to. 

Akira would have said ‘ _ likewise _ ’, but nothing about what Akechi was showing him now felt new. Unusual. Rare. A golden pearl. They weren’t at Leblanc and yet, Akechi was treating him now as if they were alone with the quiet hum of the same music coffee mugs warming their hands from the winter cold outside. It had to mean something. Akira wanted it to mean something. "A deep-rooted hatred of people?  _ Sickening human beings _ ?” Yes, that had been the wording Akechi had used earlier at Leblanc, “Now that, I believe.” He’d been surprised that Akechi had said it, especially with the other thieves as an audience, and he’d even admitted that the issue was ‘ _ deeply personal’ _ to him as well. That had been unexpected because the Detective Prince would have operated for some ‘ _ lofty ideal _ ’. The TV personality, the mask he wore more often than his own face would have appealed to them on his sense of justice. Either he had sensed something in them, seen the pattern of their own ‘ _ deeply personal _ ’ actions and was attempting to mimic them to gain their trust or he was being honest. When his mask was stripped away, he was not unlike them in that regard.

Akechi crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes falling again to the amaryllis “I said ‘ _ some _ ’ people--not all people.” Their eyes met, “I did mean what I said, however.”

“It was one of your more shining moments,” Akira said cryptically, not meaning to sound vague but coming across as difficult anyway.

“How do you mean?”

“You’re more relatable when you’re honest . . . like Ann said,” he admitted carefully, sure to attribute the observation to Ann. She’d been the one to call him out like that--not Akira. Akira had been too stunned to say anything about it. He played with the fringe of his hair. The conversation was getting too serious, and the tension they’d found themselves in on more than one occasion was threatening to suffocate them both.

“Relatable? What are you trying to say?”

“Akechi-kun, don’t be in a bad mood. This is our first date after all.”

Akechi unfolded his arms, nearly threw up his hands and set an elbow on the table to hold his head in his palm. “Please,” he voiced his sarcasm, his expression matching as one somewhere between disinterest and disgust.

Akira loved that expression. Something about it lit a fire in him, encouraging him to continue with his pathetic attempts at flirting, “I’m not pretty enough?” 

Akechi rolled his eyes and straightened his posture once more, “You hold me to be so vain?”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Akira tilted his head to the side, his biting his bottom lip almost in a pout.

“Akira I--”

Akira’s eyes went wide and he stared, mouth slowly curving into a sly smile. He watched Akechi’s cheeks blossom into pink then red, settling on him to accompany his shocked expression.

“Yes, Goro, dear?”

The detective looked away, his eyes finding refuge in the city lights outside. “Enough,” Akechi replied flatly, his tone ice and steel and incredibly refreshing.

Akira frowned but kept the same airy tone, “We went from strangers to a bickering old couple in seconds. It’s a shame we skipped the honeymoon phase.”

“Why did I agree to this?”

A true mystery.

Having no defense or ammunition against Akira’s teasing, Goro changed the subject tactlessly, “Also, do you have any idea how many copies of the same flier I have now? Every account I have is just, essentially, flooded with spam.” His complexion recovered, he turned to look back at Akira now, “My fan club sent me several items from that American bulk store-Costco was it? I have twenty-four toothbrushes. Twenty-four.”

Akira grinned, “It must be tough work caring for those pearly whites.”

“Nevermind.” Akechi’s face went blank again, “You’re enjoying this. You--”

“Here you are,” the waitress interrupted them and set down their food in front of them.

The detective stopped, their conversation forgotten. Akira watched as he began to move things around on the table. He folded the napkin so that the logo of the restaurant could be seen beside the plate. He moved the white amaryllis closer and picked up the plastic candle to shed more light on the food. Akira watched him, confused but intrigued as Akechi took out his phone, pushed the condiments aside, turned the plate a pinch to the right, and then snapped a photo. 

It’s cute, what Akechi is doing. Akira doesn’t realize his own warmth in his cheeks.

Akechi takes another, moving the drink he ordered into the photo and changing the angle to get a closer shot of the food.

Akechi looks up when he sets the electronic candle back down in its place. “What is it?”

“You always photograph food?" Was Leblanc's curry not fancy enough? Akechi hadn't taken a photo of that.

“I . . , run a food blog,” he admitted with some hesitation.

“What’s it called?” Akira asked, suddenly invested. He took out his own phone.

“You’re interested?” Akechi asked skeptically.

“It’s yours.”

Akechi was also blushing now, clearly unprepared for the automatic response, “What are you— you’re irritating.”

Funny, Akechi didn’t sound like he meant that at all. “So what is it called?”

“Proof is in the Pudding.”

Akira typed it into his phone.

“It’s a western idiom. It means that you can judge something only once you’ve tried it,” Akechi explained without being prompted. 

Why did he look nervous?

“Is it only sweets?” The first entry was a parfait from some place in Ikebukuro. The photos were bright and well shot. The food looked like it belonged in a magazine.

“No, but . . . mostly,” Akechi had pocketed his phone and was staring at his food as if he were gathering the courage to actually eat it.

Akira scrolled through the entries on his phone. “Wow, this is . . . really impressive actually. You update this every week?” It wasn’t something as simple as a Twitter or an Instagram. He had a rating system and a sizeable entry with photos for each restaurant.

“I try to.”

“It’s cute.”

“Kurusu, really .  . .”

“Leblanc isn’t here?” He tried searching for it. With how often Akechi was there, it only made sense that he would have reviewed it 

“No. Nor will it ever be,” Akechi replied dismissively. He seemed tired.

Akira looked up from his phone, searching Akechi’s face for a reason why. He watched it soften.

“It’s a . . . special place for me.” Akechi wouldn’t look at him; he was still studying his pancakes.

They lapsed into silence and slowly began eating.

“Which is yours?” Akechi asked, breaking the silence several minutes later. He sounded distant again, like he was speaking to Akira from over the phone on speaker, distracted, multitasking, busy. Yet, he was right across from him, eating painfully slow, careful, as if he were being watched.

“Shrimp and avocado. It’s so crunchy.” 

“It’s pretty strange,” Akechi admitted. He had ordered a plate that had one crispy and one thin pancake. Each of them were different from what was typically found in Japan as ‘pancakes’. Neither of them were, thick, fluffy, or sweet. “I’ve never had anything like this. Thank you for bringing me here.”

Akira said nothing in response; he kept his eyes on Akechi, a gentle, encouraging smile. He really was different when it was just them. He didn’t want to point it out, afraid the illusion would break, but the knowledge that Akechi was this way with him, not just within the walls of Leblanc, made him feel warm and light-headed. The moments they shared had slowly become his favorite-- second to none. “I should say the same,” he finally said, several minutes too late. Akechi didn’t even seem to hear him, his concentration on his food and his thoughts likely turned inward.

“Tomorrow we’ll begin infiltration?” the detective asked out of nowhere.

Akira nodded. Akechi’s question spoke volumes as to where his thoughts had been.

“I look forward to it.” 

It didn’t sound at all like Akechi did, but Akira didn’t point it out. He didn’t want to admit to it, but he was counting the hours until their scheduled meeting time. His curiosity on what Akechi Goro was like in the metaverse was chipping away at his patience.

“You’ll become one of us,” Akira said carefully, the same gentle smile on his face.

Akechi scoffed, “Now, I highly doubt that, but I appreciate your efforts to include me.”

They fell into silence again and continued eating. When their plates were picked up, Akira ordered two dessert pancakes-- one for there and one to go. When it arrived, the strawberries and mango slices were arranged in a pattern with the syrup in swirls that imitated Venetian lace. A sprig of mint decorated whipped cream on the side. Akira began moving the centerpieces out of the way so that Akechi could see it better, and he pushed it closer to him.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” Akechi blushed, not understanding Akira’s intent.

“Go ahead. Take a photo. Your review wouldn’t be complete without a dessert option.”

Akechi nodded, a light glow still on his cheeks as he took out his phone to snap a photo. When Akira saw that Goro is satisfied with his pictures, he picked up his fork. There were two forks, however, and when Akechi didn’t take his, Akira handed it to him. Akechi wouldn’t speak, but the red in his cheeks glowed a bit brighter. Akira, watching him, wondered how many dates the detective prince had been on. The atmosphere before hadn’t felt like one, but now, sharing the desert together with a content silence between them, it was hard to ignore. 

Akira doesn’t have a plan; he doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. He just wants to see Akechi happy.

Watching Akechi eat, fondness in his eyes as he cuts small bites of the pancake, Akira wondered if he was seeing it now. Akechi. Happy. He could recall having seen it once, maybe twice. He wished he could know for certain, but nothing about Akechi Goro was sure.

Their eyes met and, for a moment, Akira was convinced he was looking at someone else. A person he’d seen maybe once before inside the walls of Leblanc. Warm. Gentle. _ Innocent.  _ By mistake, Akira’s eyes narrowed as if he were trying to see through some kind of an illusion. Suddenly, that person was gone, replaced instead by Master of Illusions, Akechi Goro, smiling pretty and rehearsed.  

Akechi put down his fork and stood up from his chair. “Excuse me.” And with that, he leaves. 

Akira was left to himself, repeating in his mind that he did nothing wrong. Akechi is still coming around. He’s beginning to trust him, but it will just take time. He feels as though he has been repeating this mantra for months.

Almost ten minutes later, Akechi returns. Almost all of the desert is gone, but a neatly cut quarter is still waiting for Akechi, cold now, but still appealing in presentation.

“Are you okay?” It’s the first thing Akira asks when Akechi finally returns to his seat and sets down his water after taking a long sip.

“Yes,” he replied mechanically.

“I left the rest for you.” Akira didn’t know why his voice sounded so gentle; he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

“I’m afraid I’m full,” Akechi replied in the same monotone.

“Oh.” Akira replied dumbly, a crushing sensation in his head making him feel as though he’d been cursed inside the Metaverse. That pleasant feeling was gone entirely; Akechi had come back gray and empty. He couldn’t decide if he preferred this to a lie. 

“Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Akechi led them upstairs but walked in the direction of the spider when they came up the top entrance to the building where they’d started. Akira watched as Akechi stopped at the edge of the sidewalk where a shorter wall created a ledge. “Why the detour?” Akechi was looking out at the city again, now alight all over in a warm glow beneath the black sky. “Tokyo Tower?” It was a red building that looked not unlike the Eiffel Tower. He didn’t realize that Tokyo tower was close; the ledge gave a near perfect view of the golden lights. Akira had never been. He’d only visited Skytree with Ann and Ohya. Beyond the name, he knew nothing about it except that it was shorter than Skytree.

“That’s right.” Akechi answered, but his voice was distant yet again, but this time, so much so that Akira felt convinced that he would disappear.

“It’s nice.” Akira would never claim he was poetic by any means.

“It is.”

The air had gotten colder, the temperature having dropped in the time that they’d been inside. Akira wanted to reach for him, but he didn’t. Instead, he disappeared, himself, watching Goro look out at the lights with an expression that told of a yearning desire so deep and unfulfilled that it must have taken a lifetime to develop. Goro, too, seemed to fall inside himself, seeing something else before him as the silence left space for memories to surface. Time stood still. People dispersed. A few lights went out. Akira watched as Goro’s face went blank, neither sad nor thoughtful, certainly not forced. Ith his skin pale, his face expressionless, and his body unmoving, Akechi looked not unlike a puppet. Just a life-sized doll that winked at cameras and put up victory signs for photos. But, he was breathing; it was visible in the night air, soft and light.

Without thinking, Akira shifted closer to Akechi, moved behind him, and let his head fall against his back. His nose, cold from the weather, buried into the back of Akechi’s neck. His closed eyes sunk against Akechi’s feather-soft hair, his lips touching the back of his collar. As was the case so often with Akechi, he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what compelled him to move. Akira just wanted to be closer to him and the promise of warmth and his profile, looking out at the city without seeing anything, had driven him there. 

Goro didn’t even flinch or move away. It felt as if he’d stopped breathing altogether. Akira turned his head, settling his face hiding in-between shoulder blades. If he wrapped his arms around Akechi from this position, would he accept that he was just seeking warmth from the cold as an excuse? Hesitantly, slowly, he wrapped his arms around the boy in front of him, feeling his buttons on his detective coat with his fingers as he pulled him closer.

It was not like holding hands; there was something behind it that was both affectionate and wanting. He felt his own cheeks color as he listened for Akechi to start breathing again. Smelling of something clean and inconspicuous, Akira appreciated how warm Akechi was, his body heat enough to make Akira bury closer. Akira knew the risk he was taking, but he had made no progress with Akechi being safe. Despite everything, he wanted them to be closer still. He wanted Akechi to open up to him like his other friends had. He wanted to help him like he has his confidants with whatever was keeping him trapped, tied to strings unseen that Akechi refused to name or perhaps even acknowledge. A person. A sickness. A feeling. A trauma.  If only Akechi would let him closer. If only he could be closer to him then-

“I want to call you by your first name,” Akira said softly, barely audible, but loud enough for just Goro to hear. He had not felt quite like this for some time, desperate and greedy. Again, he didn’t like analyzing his own emotions, but he didn’t have to anymore in one regard; he recognized now, especially after that rainy day, that he cared for Akechi. He cared for him deeply. 

Goro was still looking out at the city lights. Akira could hear his heartbeat with his ear against his back. His breathing had gotten erratic, and his heartbeat had sped up, but Akechi had still not pushed him away.

“No one calls me by my first name,” Akechi whispered back, barely present.

“All the more reason,” Akira’s smile pressed into the detective’s coat.

“Stop what you’re doing, Kurusu,” Akechi finally warned, his threat scaring no one and failing at its desired effect.

“No.” Following orders and rules was not Akira’s forte.

Akechi moved suddenly, breaking away from Akira’s grasp and turning around to face him. The anger written in his expression dissipated entirely when their eyes met.

Akira searched his eyes for what was hiding there, his own half-lidded, gentle, and fond.

Akechi didn’t protest or look away, captured entirely in Akira’s gaze. If Akira didn’t know any better, he’d think that Akechi enjoyed it, being looked at as he was now, being  _ seen _ , being  _ discovered,  _ being  _ cherished _ despite his flaws. Akira stepped closer to him again, ready to execute what his imagination had kept jumping to, but before he could pull Akechi back towards him, the other’s eyes went wide in panic. Without a word, the brunette jerked himself free and turned, walking away without a word.

Akira ran quickly to catch up to him, grabbing his left hand to keep him from traveling further, “Hey.”

Akechi didn’t respond. Akira couldn’t understand what was wrong. It was as if Akechi had left to merely use the restroom and come back an entirely different person. If this was really him, then who was the person who was there sitting in Leblanc normally? Who was the person on TV with the charisma and the terrible jokes? Who was Akechi Goro?

Akira turned him around, forcibly, his calm demeanor conveying none of the confusion in his mind and the concern in his heart, “Akechi?”

Goro looked at him. Empty. Tired.

Akira let him go and struggled for something to say, and then remembered the gifts in his messenger bag. He pulled one out, small, and tied tightly closed with a gold ribbon. “I got you something, actually. I forgot to give it to you earlier.”

“What?” Akechi blinked back to life, his arms moving automatically to take the gift, his palms open to receive it. His eyes widened and color returned to his face, blood rushing too fast to color his cheeks in his surprise as Akira undid the ribbon and took out a small box and placed it in his waiting hands.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said quickly as he watched Akechi open the box to reveal a round, nearly flat, circle of lacquered wood. The design on one side was black and white stripes of varied widths and the other side was the same save the stripes were even and smooth to the touch. Attached to it was a short loop of gold thread.

“It’s a phone charm. The design just reminded me of you.” Akira offered what little he could, feeling suddenly awkward. Akechi appeared to have re-joined him, but it made Akira realize his actions only seconds prior. What had he almost done?

Akechi took it in his hands, pocketing the box. He turned the charm over a few times, feeling its surface with his fingertips, “It’s really nice actually.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Akechi looked at him, a smile tugging just at the corner of his mouth, “Yes, you said that.”

“It’s like your tie,” Akira attempted to clarify his decision, the gift’s purpose--something.

“Yes, I gathered,” Akechi responded, his eyes studying it once more.

“I’m not sure if you even use phone charms, but I guess you could put it on your-”

“Oh, it turns,” Akechi observed, sliding it open and turning it around. “It’s a mirror.”

“I didn’t realize,” Akira replied, his fingers fiddling with his bangs once more. He noticed only now that it was probably a gift that was more appropriate for a woman. He hadn’t thought about that when he’d purchased it; he hadn’t even noticed that it had a function.

“Where did you find this?” Akechi finally looked at him, his brown eyes searching.

“A store,” he replied dumbly.

It made Akechi sigh, defeated. He shook his head. 

Akira wasn’t sure where he’d disappointed him most. “It’s not a big deal. If you don’t like it you--”

“No, it’s not that. I--” Akechi stopped himself short, painted his face into a predictable smile and said simply, “Thank you.”

“Yeah. It’s nothing,” Akira replied, hiding his disappointment. He didn’t know what kind of reaction he wanted, but it certainly wasn’t  _ that _ . Akechi’s walls had gone back up, and he was left with the same bittersweet feelings he’d become accustomed to any time Akechi had let him in, even just a bit. They had completed the cycle all over again, and, as Akechi turned on his heel to lead them back to the station and home, Akira wondered if he’d ever actually break it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you want to read more, again, this is part of an on-going fic that you can read [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11398344) For the most part, this can stand alone, but if you'd like to see how their relationship develops further or how it has gotten to this point, you may enjoy it~!  
> Please share your thoughts and thank you for reading~!


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